Page 116 of Oddity of the Ton
Colonel Reid paled. “Ye gods…”
“Not merely for gratification,” she continued. “He put his work to use in a medical journal, but I’ve not had the opportunity to read it.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “While art should be encouraged, everything has its limits. I have seen death up close, Miss Howard. It is not something to be celebrated.”
The general murmur of voices—which always rendered it an ordeal to take part in a conversation—quietened, and Eleanor glanced up.
Mother stood in the center of the drawing room.
“It’s time for a little dancing,” she said, fixing her gaze on Eleanor’s companion. “Colonel Reid, could we prevail upon you to lead the first dance?”
“I’m engaged to your daughter for the first dance, Lady Howard,” he said, “if she’ll oblige me.”
“Of course she will, won’t you, Eleanor?”
“I-I don’t dance very well,” Eleanor said.
“Nonsense! You’re an excellent dancer,” Mother said.
“Yes,” a new voice said, in a sneering tone. “Perfect in every way, isn’t she?”
Juliette stood in the doorway, her face flushed, body swaying from side to side, clutching a book in her arms, as if her life depended on it.
“Daughter!” Eleanor’s mother cried. “Whatever’s the matter? You look quite ill.”
“Nothing’s the matter withme, Mama,” Juliette said, her words slurred. “It’sEleanoryou should concern yourself with.”
“Juliette, compose yourself,” Mother said. “Our guests have no wish to see you in such a state.”
“Perhaps not—but I’m sure they’d love to know what myperfect sisterdoes when they’re not watching.”
She unfolded her arms and held up the book.
No—not a book. Eleanor’s sketchbook.
“Where did you get that?” Eleanor said. “Did you go into my study?”
“It’s a good thing I did,” Juliette replied, “or your sordid goings-on would have gone undiscovered.”
A cold hand clutched Eleanor’s stomach in a viselike grip as she recalled Juliette’s warning.
Perhaps I should put that to the test.
“Juliette, that’s enough,” Eleanor’s father said, rising to his feet. “You make me quite ashamed. James, please return Miss Juliette to her chamber then send for Dr. McIver.” He addressed the rest of the party. “Do forgive my younger daughter—she appears to be having some sort of fit.”
“I’m having nothing of the sort,” Juliette replied, holding up the sketchbook. “I’mnot the one to be ashamed of. See this?”
She flicked through the pages, then held the sketchbook aloft.
For a heartbeat, silence filled the air. Then a ripple threaded through the room as one guest after another drew in a sharp breath, their incredulity giving way to understanding.
On the page, for all to see, was Montague, lying naked on a crumpled bed, instantly recognizable by his physique—the planes of muscles lovingly depicted, his partially erect manhood jutting from the nest of curls, with not a single item of detail left to the imagination…
…and the smile of repletion on his full lips—the intensity in his eyes that had magnified at the point of his climax.
There would be no doubt in the mind of any observer that here was a man who’d engaged in a session of eager, vigorous lovemaking, who stared hungrily out of the page at the woman he’d just claimed.
“Wh-what is the meaning of…?” Eleanor’s mother stammered, for once, at a loss for words.
